


A Pain In The Ass

by kleine_aster



Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: Consensual, M/M, Spanking, Verbal Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-22
Updated: 2013-02-22
Packaged: 2017-12-03 06:06:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/695044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kleine_aster/pseuds/kleine_aster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Damian takes his inner masochist for a spin. Jason is along for the ride.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Pain In The Ass

**Author's Note:**

> **Title:** A Pain In The Ass  
>  **Pairing:** Jason/Damian  
>  **Genre:** PWP.  
>  **Words:** 2,454  
>  **Warnings:** Spanking, mild humiliation and verbal abuse.  
>  **Notes:** A while ago, a friend and I both agreed that if anybody deserves a good spanking, it’s Damian (I’m … pretty sure we’re not the only ones XD). I wanted to write this ever since. I never wrote a spanking scene before, so I’m not sure how well it turned out. Apologies for the awful, punny title, I couldn’t resist.

The first time he does it, he doesn't even think about it. He doesn't think at all. They've been engaging in some kind of naked wrestling match on the bed, and his choices aren't exactly driven by his _brain_ at that point. So when he's presented with the apple-shaped perfection of Damian's ass while the boy leans over to shut off his cellphone, Jason basically _has_ to slap it. He kinda expects the little thug to hit him back, to be honest, because … that's how he usually does things. And he'd take it, too, since this was completely worth it. 

What he doesn't expect is Damian sharply turning his head in his direction, and giving him … that look.

Jason narrows his eyes, tries to read his expression.

He looks … offended?

No.

That's not it.

Damian delivers him a long, hard stare, then drops his cellphone to the floor and says, "Do that again."

And not in that _Do that again and I'll adorably try to knee you in the groin_ kinda way.

Jason isn’t quite sure if he should trust this proposition, since this has never happened before; but it’s not like he has to be asked twice. He draws back his large, calloused hand, and lets it collide with the smooth rear in front of him again, harder this time. And he listens to Damian biting back a moan, he sees the stance of his legs widen and his large cock twitch excitedly against his belly, and he realizes that he's on to something. His face lights up with curiosity. He can feel his own dick throb in response. Damian plays his cards close to the vest, always, even when he's naked and screaming. So. This is pretty interesting. 

He needs no invitation to slap him a third time, and that's when it happens. Damian arches his back, grabs a fistful of sheet, and the words seem to shudder out of his mouth more than he says them when he groans, "Punish me – "

Then, he makes a face like he accidentally spilled the milk, 'cause he clearly hadn't meant to say that out loud.

And that's when a light goes off in Jason's hormone-addled brain.

He shoots Damian a quick, mischievous grin, to let him know that it's fine, that he's not gonna make fun of him for it (the little snot isn't exactly great at reading facial cues, either, so hopefully, it'll work). And then, he moves to the edge of the bed, plants his feet on the ground, sits up straight, red-hot dick dipping up between his big scarred thighs like a spear, and gestures at his lap. 

"C'mere."

It feels a little weird. He's never bossed anyone around in bed before. He's never spanked anyone. Sure, when he was a teenager, he'd sometimes imagine _getting_ spanked by _someone_ , preferably by a pair of big, gloved hands while he's wearing short green pants, but it had never been more than a fantasy. This is new. He doesn't even know if he likes … dominating someone. But if this is a game that the littlest Wayne is itching to play, Jason's willing to play along.

Damian eyes his crotch from his corner of the bed. He looks suspicious. He does _not_ , however, look turned off in the slightest.

Jason can hear him draw a few flat, short, nervous breaths. And finally, he says, "If you tell anyone about this, I _will_ murder you."

Jason uses this chance to lower his brows and give him a very stern look, which is something he rarely gets to do. "You can threaten me when I'm done with you," he growls, and then again: "C'mere."

Damian puts up a really good poker face, but Jason can tell that it gets him going. Boy, does it ever. His harsh, stubborn features grow deliciously dark. And then he comes crawling over. 

Before he reaches his lap, Jason picks him up by the neck, and pushes a wet, filthy kiss on him. Then he finds his ear, and mutters a single thing into it.

The boy scrunches up his nose, hanging inches from his face. "Is that even a _real_ word?" He sneers.

Jason frowns at him. “Never heard that before? At home, or something?”

“No.”

He rolls his eyes. " _Yeah_ , it is a real word," he confirms, rubbing Damian’s neck to reassure him, and also because he likes doing it, "You can say that to me if you want me to stop."

Damian furrows his sharp eyebrows and makes a dismissive, growling noise in his throat. "Why would I need to – " 

He stops with a yelp when he receives another bare-handed slap on his ass, the hardest so far. He sounds startled, but it's not an unhappy noise _at all_. Jason is also starting to like the full, wet noise that his hand produces on Damian’s already reddening skin, and from the way the boy starts squirming under his fingers, he doesn't hate it, either.

He's covered in gooseflesh when he obediently spreads himself across Jason’s lap without further prompting. Jason can feel the hotness of the boy’s arousal press into his thigh. Damian’s warm, shivering skin teases the tip of his dick, making him moan softly. They probably make for an odd sight, since Damian has grown pretty tall, but Jason is a big, hulking mass of a man, so if the brat had been looking for the one guy who could believably put him across his knee, he'd found him.

Seeing that glorious pair of cheeks presented to him so helplessly makes his heart and his dick pound in unison. It’s beautiful, and he almost wants to lubricate his fingers and slide them in there, see if he enjoys getting fucked (they haven’t fucked yet; they’ve only recently progressed from angry dry-humping, and are still figuring out what to do with each other, like this here), but he’d never do that without an invitation.

He also kinda wants to pet him and tell him he looks fucking fantastic, but that’s probably not what the kid wants, or needs from him now.

Instead, he sends him into convulsions when he plants another one on him; he’s seen Damian lose it before, but not like this. 

“Is that why you like me, you perv?” he teases him. “’cause I have big hands?”

He hears a dark, muffled snicker. Damian sounds as arrogant as ever, but his hot face is buried in the sheets. “What foolishness possesses you to think I like y – OW!”

He stops, rocking against Jason’s lap when he spanks him for that, three times in quick succession, each slap louder than the last. Not hard enough to break the skin, but enough to leave and imprint of his paw on the soft, swelling skin. It looks delicious.

“You little bitch,” he growls

“I’m not your bitch, Todd,” Damian protests, even though he barely is in a position to, with his head down and his ass in the air. Jason chuckles. “I never said you were _my_ bitch. That was you. But you know what, kiddo, I’ll take it.”

Damian lifts his head to scowl at him, but then collapses with another soft ‘ow’ when Jason puts his hand back to work. It’s a lovely, involuntary sound that sends a deep spasm through the taller man’s thighs and loins. He has to struggle to keep it together; Damian’s firm, burning skin is brushing against his monstrous boner, and it’s driving him insane.

“Be quiet, little boy,” he hisses, and his voice sounds thick with arousal, “And let me teach you a lesson.”

Damian complies, and there’s silence, except for the satisfying noise of flesh colliding with flesh, Jason’s hard, shallow breathing, and the sweet sound of Damian’s steady grunts turning into unsteady moans as he’s beating him raw. It seems too harsh and too much for a first time, but Damian makes no attempt to stop him, or make him go easier, so he doesn’t. Jason knows that he has an insane tolerance for pain that almost rivals his own. But he would’ve never guessed how much he _liked_ it. 

The boy is downright rutting against his lap now, but when he hoarsely commands him, “ _Hold still,_ ” he obeys. Jason looks up from his handiwork, and he sees Damian bite his knuckle while he’s clutching a fistful of sheet in his other hand, whimpering softly. That whole bottled-up lust thing he’s got going is so fucking hot. He feels a dab of precome trickle down his leg, and wonders if he can get him off simply by doing this, which seems both thrilling and really damn likely.

Damian feels Jason’s eyes on him, and lets his hand slip out of his wet mouth to stammer, “I-I want to speak.”

“Speak.”

Damian blinks at him, then drops his head down again, and buries his face against his fists. His words come out hot and fast, barely audible.

“Tell me I’m bad,” he pleads, shaking all over. “Tell me how bad I am. Please.”

There’s something so intimate and earnest about his request. Jason stares down at him in surprise, but Damian doesn’t speak up again. He squirms on his knee, quietly awaiting his further punishment. After a second of hesitation, Jason raises his hand again.

“Well,” he says, doing his best to sound cold and unimpressed, which is _really fucking hard_ right now, “You don’t need _me_ to tell you what a twisted little shit you are, do you?”

He brings down his hand again, and is rewarded with another muffled howl.

“You know what you did.”

He does it again.

“You know what you are.”

Again.

His balls are aching for release, and his hand is burning like hellfire – though not as bad as the skin on Damian’s ass, presumably – but he keeps it up, accentuating each hard-hitting word with his hands. And the words keep coming, from a deep, dark place in his heart, one that probably has more to do with him than with the boy on his knees.

“You’re bad to the fucking core, and you know it. Everyone knows it. And now you’re even getting off on it, like the _freak_ you are. You’re pathetic. You’re sick. You’re _weak_. You’re nothing but a spoiled, rotten, evil little - ”

He stops and watches in awe as Damian goes into full-on spasms in his lap, digs his fists into the mattress and screams into the sheets as he loses it, shooting his load right between his legs. It’s amazing. It’s mesmerizing.

He’s still twitching as Jason snatches him up by his neck again and pulls him close like a wet, fidgeting kitten. Jason’s pulse is racing. He wants something, too, he needs something, too, and he feels like has to act fast, as long as Damian is still dazed and compliant. The boy gazes at him with clouded, hazy blue eyes, and he knows that he’s got him.

“Suck me off,” he pants desperately, fervently, “Suck my dick, do it now, do it good.”

It’s chaotic. Damian wrestles out of his grip, and more or less stumbles off the bed, between his legs, where he downright _dives_ for his cock. He adorably nudges it with his nose before he grabs it, and shoves it into his mouth much harder and deeper than Jason has expected. His head rolls back, and he fails to stifle a whimper of his own. He’s seeing fucking stars. Damian is blowing him as if he’s on a mission; he’s blowing his brains out.

It doesn’t take him long to get over the edge, and he comes inside the boy’s mouth with a shuddering, ridiculous gasp-moan that’s not at all befitting for a master, while Damian proceeds to suck him completely dry.

When he comes down from his high, he sees the fifth Robin glower at him from between his legs.

“I’ll say it again,” Damian sneers, back to his old self even though he’d just spit out a mouthful of jizz, “If you mention this to anyone, I’ll – ”

Jason cracks him a shaky smile, leans down to cup his chin in his hand, and shuts him up with a deep, gentle kiss. “You’ll murder me, yeah, yeah,” he grumbles affectionately.

Like he’d ever tell on him.

He moves back to give him some room on the bed, and Damian climbs into it, still glaring. Jason watches him as he plops down on his stomach (of course), and gingerly starts wiping his mouth. He very pointedly uses Jason’s shirt for that.

“Your discharge tastes disgusting,” Damian dryly informs him, but he doesn’t really sound all that vindictive.

Jason grins at him. “There’s an ice machine down the hall,” he says. “I can get you some, if you want.”

“I’m not thirsty.”

He laughs, and swats Damian’s thigh. This time, Damian swats him back, but very lazily by his standards. “Not for your mouth, darling.” Jason snickers. “For your sweet, sweet ass.”

“I don’t require your aftercare.” The cum-stained shirt lands in Jason’s face. “ _Or_ your corny affectations.”

Jason plucks the shirt off his head, still snickering. He’ll get him that ice, anyway. He’s willing to bet the brat will change his mind about it once he tries sitting up. It amuses him a little that, even though Damian likes wrapping things up quickly once they’re done, he now _has_ to hang out with Jason, for the simple fact that he probably can’t stand up straight _or_ walk for a while. The boy’s face is almost as flushed as his tormented backside, which is very endearing. He doesn’t look displeased, and he doesn’t look unsatisfied, but he still looks very embarrassed.

“Hey, listen.” Jason shoots him a tentative look. It seems like he shouldn’t _have_ to say this, but he feels like he wants to. “You know I was just playing, right? There is nothing wrong with you. You’re not a bad kid. You’re not a bad person.”

Damian abruptly raises his head to stare at him. He stops looking embarrassed, and looks unsure instead. A quick emotion flits across his face, almost as if the words _touch_ him, or something.

Then, all he utters is: “ _Tt._ ”

Jason smiles wryly. “You _are_ kind of a bitch, though.”

The boy bares him his teeth, and makes like he wants to lunge at him for a split second, but then he flops back down on his stomach, wincing grumpily. It’s cute.

Jason sighs and rolls over to cradle him in his arms. “All I’m saying is,” he says softly, “if you need someone to punish, you, anyway, I’m here for you.”


End file.
